Buffy's Husband
by marie05
Summary: crossover with Stargate SG:1 Buffy wakes up with a stranger in her bed.
1. Chapter 1

I don't wake up when my alarm clock rings. I always wake up about 6 minutes before it begins to beep. I roll out of bed. I shiver. I roll back into bed. I bitch at myself for being lazy and not getting out of bed. I roll out of bed and quickly put some warm clothes on. I put my hair in a ponytail, not bothering to comb it because it's a waste of time, most people can't tell anyway. Trust me, they can't. A matter of fact, the days that I don't comb it are usually the days I get the most compliments. Life's funny that way.

I sit down at my computer and try to turn it on; when the button doesn't work I give it my "sexy" face. It still doesn't work. I cuss liberally and loudly at it than try the button again. I wonder what I did to piss it off. It only gives me the silent treatment when I've done something it dislikes. Like giving it a virus. As if that's MY fault!

I finally give up on the stupid thing and turn on my favorite radio. It always works. . . unlike that stupid thing. Well, always works except for that one time, when it didn't, but I don't like to bring that up. I give one last scowl at the computer than realize my favorite song is playing and I begin to dance in that way you only do when no one is around.

"Umm, hi?" A voice come from my bed.

I stop, started. Oh my God! What did I do last night? I can assure you that my bed doesn't normally speak to me. I timidly say hi back, nervous about talking to an inanimate object.

A guy sticks his head out from under the mass of blankets.

Oh thank God, it wasn't the bed talking to me. (I told you it doesn't normally talk to me, but sometimes. . .)

"Oh my God! It wasn't the bed!" It suddenly occurs to me that there's a stranger in my bed.

He smirks at me. He thinks I'm dumb. People tend to assume that a lot about me. I blame it on the blonde hair.

"Umm. . . no . . . It wasn't the bed. It was me." He give me a full blown smile trying to charm the ditzy blonde (people do that a lot too.)

"Uh-huh. And you are?" I put my hands on my hips and try to look intimidating. I'm not very good at it. I blame it o my height. 5 feet 2 inches. At least, that's what I told the license people. (And can you believe they finally gave me a license!)

"Daniel."

I raise my eyebrows.

"Your husband?"

I begin to wonder why the guys always remember the drunken marriage and the girls never do. Maybe if I was bigger? "Husband?" I screeched. I didn't mean to, but . . . I did. "No Way did I marry you! You. . . You're like 7 feet tall!"

He laughs.

I glare.

"I'm only 6 ft 2. You measured before you would say yes."

I don't believe you." I leave. Slamming the door behind me.

He's still lying there when I come back. Granted, I was only gone for a couple of minutes, but doesn't he know he was supposed to be gone when I got back? "Do you know how to make my computer work?" I glare at him as if he was evil (and trust me I know evil. I kill evil.)

He looks confused at me, "Maybe?"

"If you can, than I'll keep you." I fold my arms across my chest.

He rolls out of my bed.

"Oh my God!" I slam my eyes shut. And my put my hands over my eyes.

I peek.

He catches me. He laughs.

I glare.

He pulls a pair of Khakis on. Now why didn't I notice those when I was dancing around? It would have saved me a lot of trouble. He'd already be good and slayed.

He sits down at my computer and within seconds it's glowing and chirping. Damn him!

He smirks.

I continue to glare, but sit down on the floor in the middle of the room. "Alright. Fine. Sit down. Tell me who you are."

"I am sitting down."

"On the floor." I say it my I'm-the-Big-Sister-Listen-To-Me voice. He follows me orders. A point his favor. "Name?"

"Daniel Jackson."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a civilian consultant for the air force. I work at Cheyenne Mountain on deep space telemetry."

"What do you consult on?"

"Translations."

"So you speak lotsa' languages?"

"Yea."

Like younger, hotter Giles. "Do you ever have a weird urge to wear tweed or drink lots of tea?"

He blinks, "No?"

"Alright. I guess I'll keep you. But I don't have to like it!"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Not Mine

Author's Note: I've had a lot of people ask that I continue the daniel and buffy story, but I found that I just can't keep that light hearted tone for very long. So, I've decided to do a series of drabbles (it will be very sporadic...) or drabble-ish continuing pieces.

Daniel settled into the couch with a thick book and looked across the room to where his wife was dancing to music he couldn't hear. They'd hardly had a conversation since she had bought the CD two days ago. She had amazing stamina; he had trouble believing that anyone could dance as long as she had been without falling to the floor in exhaustion. He smiled at her, then returned to his book, a grimoire of a Sumerian Priest.

"Wow! That would be sooo neat!" Buffy was suddenly leaning over his shoulder.

"What would be sooo neat?" Daniel asked, having no clue what his wife was talking about.

"Imagine the hit you'd be at college parties being able to keep the keg full like that!?"

Daniel realized she was reading his book, "You can read Sumerian?" Daniel had learned that his wife was smarter than she pretended to be, but Sumerian?

"Who can't these days? Had to learn in high school."

"In high school?" Hadn't she told him she went to a public school? What public school taught it's students ancient Sumerian?


End file.
